


Closed Door Meeting

by leici



Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-02
Updated: 2014-09-02
Packaged: 2018-02-15 22:14:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,094
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2245230
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/leici/pseuds/leici
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kevin Lowe (Oilers GM) calls Craig MacTavish (Oilers head coach) in for a closed door meeting.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Closed Door Meeting

**Author's Note:**

> From what I can gather from edmontonoilers.com, the Oilers both play and practice at Rexall Place. The practices are closed to the public. As there is no separate practice facility, I'm assuming for the sake of this story that the administrative offices for the Oilers are also located in Rexall Place.
> 
> Written July 2007.

Craig MacTavish was just finishing his pre-skate talk when Scott Howson entered the locker room, expression all business.  
  
"Hey Mac, when you're through, Kevin wants to see you."  
  
Craig's response was a curt nod, Scott ducking out quickly. Some of the veterans gave their coach a look, a few of them adding childish sound effects to increase the dramatics. Craig leveled most of them with a glance as he handed off his clipboard to assistant coach Charlie Huddy. "Charlie's gonna start the drills. I'll be out there in a few minutes. No funny stuff, boys."  
  
The players made a show of grumbling, and Craig smiled to himself as he made his way out of the locker room, heading into the hall and up to the administrative offices. Despite the implication, he wasn't particularly worried about this meeting. He'd known the team's general manager for more than twenty years. To say he and Kevin were close was a bit of an understatement.  
  
Kevin's door was open and Craig let himself linger in the doorway while the GM finished a phone conversation. Kevin's back was to him and Craig rapped softly on the frame as Kevin disconnected the call. "You wanted to see me?"  
  
Kevin turned and looked up at him. "Yeah. Come in." Kevin had always had what Craig referred to as "Kind Eyes." His expressions were soft, always, no matter what he was actually feeling. It didn't mean there wasn't passion in him; on the contrary, he was more intense on the inside than Craig had ever imagined from his first outside glance. But that depth very rarely ever showed through the set of his mouth, or the lines around his eyes. Even being face-to-face, Craig still had no clue as to why Kevin had called this meeting.  
  
"Shut the door," Kevin added as Craig entered the office. Craig unzipped his jacket and hung it on the coat rack, turning to do as Kevin requested. When he turned back around he found Kevin directly in his personal space, forcing him to take a step back and collide with heavy oak behind him.  
  
Kevin's expression had opened up in the moments Craig had been looking away. They were close now, so little space between them that Craig could feel Kevin's breath on his face, could see the edges of his irises, and how dark they'd become. "Is this why you asked me here?" Craig asked, shoulders bumping the door as Kevin closed the mere inches between them, pressing their pelvises together.  
  
Kevin laughed very softly, very sheepishly. "Yes," he admitted, layers of years and composure dropping away.  
  
"Abusing your power a little bit, don't you think?" Craig's voice was so low now that it vibrated in his throat. He was intensely aware that Kevin was already hard, and that there was absolutely no business to be done here between them.  
  
"Probably," Kevin said, tipping his head to press a wet kiss below the hinge of Craig's jaw.  
  
"I'm supposed to be coaching a hockey team," Craig mentioned almost off-handedly, winding his fingers through Kevin's fine hair.  
  
Kevin's mouth traced a line down the side of Craig's throat, and he replied into the curve of Craig's shoulder. "It's training camp. The assistants can handle it for thirty minutes."  
  
"Thirty?" Craig caught the edge of Kevin's jaw, bringing them back into eye contact. "Overestimating yourself a little?"  
  
Kevin's eyes seemed to go even darker as he stared directly into Craig's. "I wasn't even thinking about me."  
  
Craig swallowed and swore lowly under his breath, craning his neck forward to meet Kevin's lips in a kiss. They opened their mouths to each other immediately and a jolt shot through them as they connected, the memory of a hundred kisses like this compressing into the time and space of this one, making it feel exactly like their first. In all the years they'd done this, all the chances they'd taken together, each time was like the first and the last all at once. Craig always felt like an inexperienced moron for the first few seconds, trying to decide where to put his hands and how to move against this man, someone he trusted more than anyone else he'd ever known. At the same time, no one could turn him on like this, make his arms and legs shake and take his breath away instantly.  
  
Eyes closed, Craig never thought about who they were now. Inside his head, he tended to live at around thirty, when everything was always coming up aces, the terrors and traumas of his past smoothed away enough that he could really experience joy again. He was twenty-seven when he met Kevin Lowe, a wreck of a man but still a talented hockey player. He was treated as almost an untouchable that season, nearly all of his teammates weary of him outside the locker room. Kevin, on the other hand, made it his personal objective to get to know the man behind the rumors. A special friendship was forged that year, and Kevin became the person who pulled Craig out of his own personal hell, an unwavering voice of reason. Kevin gave Craig the tools he needed to move on, to rebuild his life and put his experiences not out of his mind, but securely in the past.  
  
They became so closely aligned that it didn't phase either one of them when their relationship crossed physical boundaries. Separated and reunited now twice in their careers, they were always able to pick up right where they left off, independent of whatever changes had occurred in either of their lives. There were grey areas and new limits, wives and children made things more complicated, but despite these things, what they had was something they couldn't ever completely give up.  
  
Kevin's hands were on the move, fumbling with Craig's belt, and Craig was yanked back into reality, head knocking back against the door. Kevin ripped his zipper down and then moved to shrug off his own blazer, letting it fall unceremoniously to the floor.  
  
"I'm too fucking old for this," Craig bit out as Kevin's hands came back into contact with him, shoving his pants down his thighs.  
  
"Bullshit," Kevin responded, fingers curling around the girth of Craig's half hard cock, mouth colliding with the flat of Craig's cheek. "You're never too old for this."  
  
Craig twisted his neck and pushed his mouth up under Kevin's, starting another string of wet, deep kisses that burned with their heat and desperation, sucking viciously at Kevin's lower lip as if trying to prove a point. Kevin's grip tightened slightly and Craig grunted softly, rocking his hips forward into Kevin's touch. Craig lifted his hand to cup the back of Kevin's neck, fingers kneading, licking at Kevin's pallet.  
  
"See?" Kevin said, breathless as he pulled away. "Just like being nineteen again."  
  
Craig laughed, pausing to inhale sharply. "I don't know about you, but I wasn't getting hand jobs from my GM when I was nineteen."  
  
Kevin smiled broadly, corners of his eyes crinkling. "What about blow jobs?" He was already sinking to his knees when Craig's mouth came open, useless reply ending before it began. Kevin's mouth enveloped him without preamble and he sighed thickly, eyes shutting as his head tipped back against the door.  
  
When he took the few seconds required to think about it, Craig was a little overwhelmed at what was happening. This was certainly not the first blow job he'd ever gotten from Kevin, and not even the first in Kevin's office, but he was actually in the process of shirking responsibility for this one. His team was out on the ice at that same moment, starting training camp, working on drills and preseason strategy. And where was their coach? Upstairs, essentially having sex. This wasn't something an NHL coach did. He was sure Glen would never have done this, even if he'd had the predilection. And yet here was Craig, not only indulging, but feeling utterly exhilarated by what he was doing.  
  
Of course it probably didn't hurt that Kevin was good at this. Particularly good, even. He seemed to have a natural talent for circular breathing that made it easy for him to take his time, and swallow Craig deeper than probably anyone else he'd ever experienced this with. He knew what he was doing, that was for sure. And he'd had enough experience with Craig to know his unique tastes, his little triggers and pleasure points. By now, Kevin could pretty much even control how long it lasted. If he wanted it over quickly, he knew exactly how to move and where to put his tongue to efficiently take care of business. If he wanted to draw it out, he could do that too, if only by carefully avoiding a certain rhythm or shape of his mouth.  
  
It seemed today it was going to be more in the middle. Kevin wasn't rushing, but he wasn't working to delay the inevitable either. Craig's body was starting to let him know he was well on his way to the end about five minutes into it, his abdomen tensing and heartbeat racing. He reached down with a trembling hand and gently cupped the back of Kevin's head, fingers curling slightly. Kevin's thumbs skimmed his hipbones and he shivered, assaulted with the sudden memory of being in this position before, crammed awkwardly in the back seat of Kevin's car at twenty-nine, flat on his back on Kevin's noisy mattress in 1987 after he won his first Stanley Cup, in a crappy motel outside Manhattan two days after he'd won his last. He remembered that last one with a singular fondness, the feeling of that championship being enhanced by a city possessed, and a reunion that the two of them had never guessed would occur.  
  
Craig let that memory wash over him, the two of them meeting secretly before the parade. They'd taken their time celebrating together, working out the soreness of abused bodies and the tangible ache left behind from years of separation. Craig could remember the way Kevin looked that day, almost every word he'd said. He could almost feel the memory of the way Kevin moved, how he tasted, the expressions on his face as they made up for lost time. As if he wasn't already turned on to the point of insanity, letting those thoughts paint themselves across his mind removed whatever tiny bit of restraint he had left. Fingertips pressing hard against the back of Kevin's skull he thrust once with abbreviated force and came, a truly pathetic sound of pleasure echoing off the far wall of Kevin's office.  
  
Kevin swallowed carefully, tongue working slowly to clean away all traces, even as Craig's body shook in the tremors of aftermath. He pulled back and stood, giving Craig a good, long look before he turned with the intention of collecting his sport coat from the floor. He'd barely moved when Craig caught his elbow.  
  
"Kevin." He licked his lips as he stared at Kevin's swollen mouth. "You really should let me-"  
  
"You've got a team to coach, remember?" Kevin interrupted, gently pulling Craig's hand away. "And this wasn't about me."  
  
Craig took a deep breath, eyes moving over Kevin's features, realizing he wouldn't win this argument, even if he tried. "You'll let me make it up to you later?"  
  
Kevin grinned. "Of course I will."  
  
Craig smiled back, though his was a bit more wicked, and he reached down to pull his pants back up. He re-zipped and re-buckled, smoothing his shirt and straightening his glasses, putting everything in order before he finally spoke. "I'm going to hold you to that, you realize." He took a step forward, nose brushing the rim of Kevin's ear as he slipped one palm over the hot bulge of Kevin's crotch. "I'm going to be thinking about this all day," he whispered lowly before pulling away.  
  
Kevin swallowed, and Craig was pleased with the way his voice trembled when he replied. "Yeah. Me too."  
  
Craig laughed gently, resisting the urge to kiss Kevin again and turning to pull his coat off the rack, zipping it back on. "We need to have these meetings more often."  
  
Kevin stooped to retrieve his jacket as well, shrugging it over his shoulders. "I agree," Kevin replied, adopting the same business-like tenor as his cohort. "It's refreshing to find a coach who wants to be so... Involved."  
  
"Trust me," Craig responded, pulling open the office door. "This is the kind of involvement I live for."


End file.
